Pearls Before Swine
God said, “Do not cast your pearls before swine.”
So, I held them closely and adorned them on my neck,
Counting them, thanking the departed oysters,
Who martyred their bodies,
To bless the world with some of the rarest beauty,
Managed to find me and encircle my throat,
In memorial reverence.
As I wandered through unbridled wood,
I saw a shanty shack - A farm? -
From a distance, I heard the calm murmuring of squeals,
But as I stood outside of the pen,
I realized that these poor pigs knew not their fate:
To be slaughtered,
without a dignified wake.
I tried to tell them but,
They wouldn’t listen,
I trudged through their heavenly swamp of mud and shit,
To tell them that we were had, that I could liberate them.
I guess the swine didn’t realize who I was,
Just as I poured my humble offering into the acrid trow,
They barrelled toward me,
Bellowing orgiastic warcries,
As they trampled me facedown into their hellish morass.
Piece by piece,
The swine devoured me en mass,
Feasting upon my flesh,
Gnawing at my bones,
Greedily homping at flattened neck beneath their flailing tongues,
Screaming as their valorous mouths tore out my vocal chords,
Savagely churned, but uncrumbled,
Unlike the rest of the meaty swill made out of me.
But that’s okay; I know exactly what's in store for them.
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